When she went to bed, Peg lay there thinking

about Jim and Clark. She would get them mixed tip in her sexual fantasies as she would slip her hand into her crotch and rub herself off. She knew that she couldn't go on that way much longer. Something would have to give.

Peg heard about a sex therapist from a girl friend and she thought she'd better give it a try before she did something she might regret. She had never gone to a shrink of any sort before so she was nervous about baring her perverted soul to a stranger. But she didn't see any way out of it.

When the day of her appointment came, she almost called the shrink to cancel the appointment, but she knew that if she did, she would have to rape her son, and she didn't think she should do that. So she drove downtown to the therapist's office. As she walked in she couldn't keep from shivering with fright. What would they do to a mother who wanted to fuck her own son? she wondered.

The receptionist asked her her name, then told her to have a seat; She flipped through old magazines but was too nervous to read anything. Every time she heard a footstep or a door open or close somewhere, she looked up. Finally, she saw a woman come out of an inner office followed by a man in a flashy sport jacket.

"Good-bye until next week," he said to the

woman. "And remember, it's not poison."

Peg stared at the man as she wondered what he meant by his remark to the woman leaving. He was very short and wore his black hair long and combed over his forehead. He walked with a waddle and looked through thick glasses.

"Hello, my dear," he said to Peg. "You must be Peggie Williams." Peg stood said hello, and the therapist told her to follow him as he walked into his office. She sat in a very comfortable reclining chair and looked around his businesslike office.